Under The Tuscan Sun Review

If you happen to go doolally over DIY TV shows or have a habit of sobbing hysterically at "Shirley Valentine," you'll find "Under the Tuscan Sun" irresistible. If not, stay well clear. The sun-tinted portrait of post-divorce freedom revolves around Diane Lane's San Franciso writer who, when she isn't penning her own books, teaches others to write while all the time being disgustingly happily married to another scribe. So when a bitter victim of one of her particularly devastating reviews reveals that her husband is having it off with a much younger model, the uber-confident critic falls to pieces. One year later and she's embarking on a gay tour of Tuscany - just don't ask - where, lo and behold, she stumbles upon a crumbling property that comes complete with a new life involving unconventional builders, eccentric friends and, yep, you've guessed it, her very own Italian Stallion.

Before you groan too much, there are a few plus points to the sentimental tale. The script at least attempts to quell the cheesiness at its core before giving up the fight entirely (our heroine first scoffs at her lover's line about her eyes, "I wish I could swim inside them," but then still beds him victoriously). And the sumptuous photography of the Tuscan countryside will have you convinced of your next holiday destination by the time the credits roll. But so schmaltzy, overlong and downright corny is this self-discovery tale that you might find yourself settling for refreshing old drizzle than sentimental continental sun.